


Things I Haven't Said

by mosylu



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Gen, because we haven't gotten nearly enough friendfluff this season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 09:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5412020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosylu/pseuds/mosylu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlin can't remember the last time she really talked to her best friend - or he talked to her. Which is strange, because you'd think they'd have a lot to talk about. Tag for the crossover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things I Haven't Said

Caitlin stepped carefully through the garage, avoiding a puddle of oil. She didn’t know why she was being so picky. These shoes were done for, after she’d walked through the chicken yard before Felicity could warn her.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

Cisco glanced up for half a second, then returned to packing up his tools. “Hey,” he said, muffled.

She picked up a spool of wire, wrapped it tight and secured the end, and unlatched a box, settling it into place among other coils of wire, all different weights and materials, all meticulously organized. Cisco could be very particular about his supplies, if nothing else.

They worked in silence. He’d been very, very quiet for several hours now. She couldn’t bring herself to hate Kendra, but she could be baffled, and she was.

She thought of saying, _I can’t believe she left._

Or _I can’t believe she would pick Carter Hall over you._

 _I can’t believe she would pick_ anyone _over you._

Almost certainly, there were things she didn’t know. She knew he and Kendra had had a number of quiet talks throughout the drama of the past few days, and that he’d made something for her. Probably some kind of alarm bell, something with GPS and a Cisco Signal so he could drop everything and go help her if she needed help.

Caitlin sighed, and he said “Don’t,” and she didn’t.

He hefted one case in either hand and took them out to the Star Labs van. She moved on to picking up various bits and scraps off the floor. He was also very meticulous about re-using things. It wasn’t as if they had unlimited funds anymore.

“Thanks,” he said, when she secured the last case in the back of the van and latched the door.

“Of course,” she said.

Barry was already back in Central City, so it was just them on the drive back in. She tooled the van through the dregs of rush hour traffic in the dimming light, thinking, _I miss you._

He was looking out the window, probably thinking the same thing, but not about her. He wasn’t even listening to his iPod, and when she turned on the radio, he didn’t bother to comment on the music.

How long had it been since they’d talked? How strange it was, that they spent upwards of eighty hours a week in the same building and somehow hadn’t managed to talk like they used to since before she’d left Star Labs.

She’d come back, hadn’t she?

But it wasn’t just him. Other things were going on. Dramatic things, Flash things, interdimensional breaches and talking gorillas and morally suspect doppelgangers from alternate universes.

She should remember that. He would think it was a funny band name.

She cut across three lanes of traffic to get around a slow moving semi and glanced at him.

Or maybe it was Jay, that kept them both silent. The way she was with Jay.

_Look, I don’t know what you think about Jay. I don’t know what I think about Jay. I just know that it’s been so long since I actually felt like myself. I want to feel like myself again and so what if I’m using him to do it? He comes and goes and eventually he’s going to go forever and I always knew that was the way it would be, so we’re not lying to each other at all._

_We haven’t slept together._

_In case you’re interested._

She almost missed the exit for Star Labs, but she whipped the wheel at the last minute, sliding in front of a cherry red midlife-crisis convertible that blared its horn at her. Oh _please_. There had been at least three feet between their bumpers, by her calculation.

Cisco glanced back at the swearing driver and supportively flipped him off. The gesture startled her, but it also set up a little warm glow under her breastbone.

They unloaded the van on automatic. God, what a day. What a few days.

While he rolled the cart down to his lab, she checked on Harry, who was still asleep. The hired nurse shared his chart, and they nodded together over it. If she thought it was odd that a cousin of Harrison Wells’ had suddenly turned up in Central City and gotten himself shot, she didn’t mention it.

She was paid quite a lot of money not to mention it. Part of the reason Cisco had to be so careful with his supplies.

Maybe this was why, Caitlin thought, leaning against the wall by the elevators. Maybe it was her support - support? that couldn’t be the right word - her willingness to keep Harry around. He knew far more about the breaches than anyone, even Jay, and although she knew it made both Barry and Cisco uncomfortable, the chilly practical core of her said, _he’s useful._

It wasn’t as if she trusted him. Not exactly.

Maybe it looked that way to Cisco.

The elevator dinged open, and he looked up from his spot at the back. “Heading out?”

“Yes,” she said, getting in. “You?”

“Yeah.”

As they headed out to the parking lot, keeping pace with each other, she thought of her couch, and Netflix, and a glass of wine. 

She wondered if he would sleep tonight. She wondered if he hated her for not noticing how twitchy he’d been, how unlike himself, hiding that secret away for so long.

But he hadn’t _said anything._

And she hadn’t asked.

They’d parked as usual underneath the same pitilessly glaring light. She glanced over at him as he rooted in his pocket for his car keys.

“Wait,” she said.

He paused with his hand on the door handle. “What?”

She thought of just saying, _Good night, see you tomorrow_. Instead, what came out was, “Ice cream or a drink?”

He frowned at her, shadows falling knife-edged over his face from the glare of the light overhead. “What?”

“Ice cream, or a drink,” she repeated.

She waited for him to blow her off. _Not tonight. I’m tired. Rain check._ When he turned to his car, her shoulders drooped.

He locked his car again and turned back to her. “Drink,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, unlocking her own car. “Get in, then.”

He got in.

FINIS


End file.
